


The Hunt

by LittleWriterWitch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, F/M, Inspired by The Hunger Games, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Scent Marking, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Self-Sacrifice, Sexist Language, Stiles-centric, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8580916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWriterWitch/pseuds/LittleWriterWitch
Summary: The words leave his mouth before he is even aware that he has spoken. Sharp and unexpected, the sound cuts through the tension of the ceremony. 
Stiles is on his feet, moving but not certain in the fluidity of his actions. His heart pounds, a war drum behind his ears. Breaths come uneven, no rhythm between his shaky steps and the shaking of his quickly-numbing fingers. 
Dozens of eyes are trained on him, and he knows it. He can feel the shock, the interest, the wolfish hunger, all caused by four words.
 
  I volunteer as tribute.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am _alive_!! I apologize for the lack of updates on everything these past months. RL has been extremely demanding; however, I am happy to announce that I will be getting my Associates in Psychology this May.

Stiles is only five years old when he first attends the Choosing. He sits with Scott between their moms, wide eyes and little heads taking in the ceremony.

The colors make Stiles think of the fair, long banners in blues and greys and bright flowers decorating the corners of the stage. It reminds him of when he graduated kindergarten and got an award at the end of the year. The mayor and people from the police station stand on the stage – he waves at his dad in his deputy uniform; his dad does not notice him at first, but that is okay – along with people he does not know.

“Mama, why does everyone look so sad?” He tries to whisper when he notices. Rows over, he sees a girl from the high school crying. A boy not far from her looks like he might have a bad tummy ache. So many, too many, look upset. Why are they sad? Are they not going to get an award?

His mother shushes him, gentle fingers threading through unruly brown hair. “You’ll understand when you’re older, sweetheart.”  
It is not the answer that Stiles wants, but he decides not to ask again. Instead, he turns to Scott, who is playing with a toy car. Stiles wishes that he had thought to bring one of his Hot Wheels, too.

It is not the answer that Stiles wants, but he decides not to ask again. Instead, he turns to Scott, who is playing with a toy car. Stiles wishes that he had thought to bring one of his Hot Wheels, too.

  
Scott looks back at him with bright eyes and a toothy smile. He digs in his pants pocket for a moment before pulling out a small black car to match the firetruck in his other hand. “You can be the firetruck if you want to.”

On stage, the Sheriff starts to draw names from a bowl, and people from the crowd walk up to stand in a line. The crying girl goes first, and later the boy with the pained face. Some parents cry. Some parents look angry.

Stiles and Scott do not notice much, the boys too busy rolling their cars along their legs and protected by their youthful ignorance.

 

 

* * *

 

Stiles knows that there is something wrong with his mom. Dad won’t tell him much, but he knows. He notices more than people thinks he does. He knows that his mom is always tired and that she has to go to the doctor for tests soon.

He is seven, and he knows more than he should for his age. He sits again between his mother and Scott, but now he knows why he is here.

His dad said that the Choosing is important for keeping Beacon Hills safe.

His dad said that the Choosing is part of a pact between the humans and the local werewolf pack.

His dad said that the pack protects everyone in exchange for a few Omegas every few years.

His dad did not say much more than that, but Stiles understands. He knows that the unfamiliar people on stage are members of the pack. The Alpha and her Betas – Stiles knows that word from a few big kid books he found at the library – stand on one side, and the respected humans of Beacon Hills on the other.

Stiles gazes up at his mom, who stares distantly at the stage. His mom, and Omega, who probably once had to sit through the Choosing when she was younger. His mom, who looks tired with her pale face and darkness in her eyes.

Stiles takes her hand in his little one and holds it as the Sheriff starts talking on stage. She looks back down at him and gives a small smile. She squeezes his hand in hers before they turn their attention to where Omegas are going up on stage.

He starts to understand why some people look so sad. 

 

* * *

 

Stiles is eight years old and alone when his mother dies. He is sitting in squeaky-leather seat beside his mother’s hospital bed, voice soft as he tells her about his day. It has been a routine for a while, one that he does not enjoy but takes part in anyway.

Every day, he comes to the hospital after school and Mrs. McCall gives him a snack. He does his homework on one of the break room tables before going to see his mom. She does not recognize him the times that she is awake, but Stiles talks to her either way.

The people at the hospital never explained what _hospice_ meant; he cried when he looked up the word in the encyclopedia at school.

She is sleeping when Stiles comes in that day. He pulls that chair up with little hands so he can sit close. Her hands are cold, and he pulls the blanket up to try and warm them. He does his best to ignore how she looks. The shadows that seem to cling to her skin, the tiny bit of drool that escapes the corner of her dried lips. His voice is shaky, but he manages to tell her about his day.

He tells her about what he learned in history; the class has a project this week about the local pack and how the Hales founded Beacon Hills.

He tells her about how he and Scott played explorers on the playground. They pretended to make their own little town – one without ceremonies or Jackson Whittemore.

He reaches up and grabs a tissue from the bedside table. Food from lunch still sits on it, with a cup of melty tea and some napkins. Stiles has to lean up on his tiptoes to wipe her mouth, but he manages. His mother turns her head, mouth opening to let out a rattling breath.

The beeping on the IV machine changes – faster, faster, faster, slower. Stiles calls out, scared, but it seems as though no one hears him.

He grabs his mother’s hand, trying to wake her up. It does not work. He screams when the machine flat-lines.

Two hours later, his dad comes in and pulls him into a tight hug.

Stiles has his first heat nineteen days later.

 

* * *

 

At nine years old, Stiles decides that he does not like the Choosing ceremony or anything that comes with it. He hates the looks that people give him and the comments on being an “early bloomer.” He despises the way that the older kids look at him with pity.

He hates that Scott does not understand _why_ he hates it. Scott, who has not presented yet. Scott, whom everyone hopes will turn out to be an Alpha like his father. Scott, who sits beside Stiles with that smile and the ignorance Stiles wishes he could have.

Stiles hates that his dad is still drinking. He hates that he had to wash and lay out the uniform his dad is wearing just so they would not be late. He hates that he is afraid the pack might smell the alcohol on his dad’s breath from last night.

His stomach knots when the names are starting to be called, because he knows that most of them will not go home in the end. He knows that the Choosing is only one part of the pact. The Hunt is what everyone is afraid of. He watches people go up, some almost adults and some not much older than himself.

Beside him, Scott twiddles his thumbs; Stiles hopes that he ends up as an Alpha.


End file.
